


Meeting Mr Lannister

by TeamGwenee



Series: Nannying the Cubs [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abusive Parents, F/M, Modern AU, Nanny AU, No Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:55:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25492696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamGwenee/pseuds/TeamGwenee
Summary: Jaime and Cersei are a wealthy, separated couple and parents of Tommen and Myrcella.Brienne is Tommen and Myrcella's new nanny.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Nannying the Cubs [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1846729
Comments: 18
Kudos: 177





	Meeting Mr Lannister

Brienne had been working at Casterly House, number nine, King’s Landing Close, for a week before she met the elusive Jaime Lannister.

It was a street of white mansions, overlooking lush manicured gardens and turquoise pools. Casterly House was the largest building on the street, modern and hideous.

Tommen took to Brienne the quickest. Here was a new person, nice and friendly, who had yet to meet his cats. First chance he got, he had his plump little hand clinging onto Brienne’s, and was leading her off to meet Ser Punce, Lady Whiskers and Boots.

Myrcella was reticent at first, awkward and uncertain as suited a girl of twelve who felt the burden of maturity on her shoulders, whilst still longing for the Barbie dolls she had packed away last September. She was a proper beauty, just like her mother. Golden hair, emerald eyes and a sweet face. At twelve, Brienne had already been too long, too freckled and too broad. But she recognised the look on Myrcella’s face each time her mother called her name. It had been her own face, every time Auntie Roelle had come calling for her.

Whereas Tommen was still young enough and malleable enough to be spoiled and coddled and packed off after being paraded about for the neighbour’s approval, Myrcella had begun to want things. To go places and see people and have answers to her questions. And she had outgrown the stage where the promise of ice cream and a doll was an effective distraction.

Myrcella’s emerging independence was an unwelcome reminder for her mother that Myrcella was growing older, and in turn, so was Cersei. And this was a sign that couldn’t be tweaked and nipped with a bit of plastic surgery. Cersei tried to keep her daughter young by dressing her in clothes far too young for her age. Smocked dresses with embroidered pockets and bows.

“I hate them,” Myrcella told Brienne in confidence, plucking at a threaded ribbon on her skirt with disgust. “I can’t even play in them properly. I can’t climb trees or go on my bike in case they get ripped or creased.”

“Don’t you have t-shirts and shorts you could wear for rough play?” Brienne asked.

Myrcella pouted. “Only at my dad’s. Mum doesn’t like us wearing ‘cheap, common stuff’, and she says that I shouldn’t be playing rough and tumble games anymore. She says she doesn’t want me growing into a ‘nasty tomboy’ and it’s time for me to learn to be a young lady.”

“I thought your Mum was a feminist?”

Myrcella laughed. “Only recently. She used to say that all feminists are ugly lesbians who are just bitter they can’t get a man. Then she discovered a ‘beautiful, feminine women who don’t act like men are the true feminists’ group of thought, and signed herself up. Makeup is freeing. Plastic surgery empowering. She got a boob job for her fortieth and wrote an article for Lioness Monthly about the importance of a positive body image.”

Brienne cast her mind back to the scoffing remarks Cersei had made in a stage whisper to her acolytes about Brienne’s broad shoulders and flat chest and said nothing.

#

She met him at one of Cersei’s numerous ‘ladies who lunch’ parties. Cersei’s schedule was packed with luncheons, spa appointments, yoga classes and clothes shopping.

She was joined by her devoted acolytes. Taena Merryweather, who had a sharp wit and vicious wit to rival Cersei’s, was perched by Cersei’s side.

The ever fawning Tanda Stokeworth and her obsequious daughters, Falyse and Lollys, sat squashed together on the sofa. Thin, bony Falyse with her long neck, and plump Lollys in her yellow summer dress, rather created the impression of a vulture wedged in together with a fattened up farm hen.

Ellaria Martell, who lived at The Sands with her husband Oberyn, with whom she ran an erotic photo studio from their converted barn, lounged with a smirk toying at her lips. Neither she nor Cersei could stand each other, but Cersei continued to summon her to flex her muscles as Queen Bee of the street, to which Ellaria only responded to for the free wine and gossip to take home to her love.

The newest to the group was Sansa Hardyng nee Stark. Early twenties and newly married, with sophisticated makeup and heels and hairstyles that only acted to accentuate her youth. Desperation for approval oozed from her like sweat. She laughed the loudest at every joke, sat taut and eager like a puppy waiting for a pat, and kept her eyes fixed on Cersei, following her every cue, living for every smile. Beneath her painted face she was young and pretty, but when Brienne was passing with a tray of juice and sandwiches to take to the playroom, she could overhear Taena lecture Sansa on the best places for botox treatment.

“You have to go to Doctor Qyburn,” Taena said seriously. “He did my tummy tuck as well. Cersei recommended him to me.”

“You are both so beautiful, I can’t imagine either of you needing surgery,” Sansa said earnestly.

Cersei smiled condescendingly, sat regally upon the chaise lounge. Her manicured talons were wrapped around the crystal stem of her wine glass, her designer cocktail dress was fitted perfectly to her tanned and toned body, her beautiful face flawlessly made up. Skin just a shade too orange and a touch too tight. Her golden hair tumbled down in casual waves that had taken her stylist two hours to fix up that morning.

“It’s all in the little tweaks, just a touch here and there to keep on top of things,” Cersei said wisely.

“It’s the only way to keep your man’s attention,” Falyse said through a pair of plumped up lips that made her look like a fish. “Otherwise they’ll be chasing the nanny’s skirt.”

“You should do what Cersei did,” Taena cackled.

That was when Cersei spotted Brienne through a crack in the door. Her bold red lips smiled as she called Brienne’s name.

“Brienne!” she called, “Come here a moment. Come say hello to my friends.”

Cersei’s ‘friends’ turned in to Victorian Grand Dames, eyeing up the strength and hardiness of their new maid. Brienne resisted the urge to bob.

Falyes’s stretched out face tightened into a splitting smile. “Oh yes, Cersei, she is just a thing.”

Ellaria, who had the wholesome gift of seeing the beauty in everyone she met, and the not so wholesome gift of picturing the naked body of everyone she met, ran her eyes over Brienne's long legs appreciatively.

“Oh yes, you are a lucky find,” she purred. Ellaria tilted her head to one side. “You have to come shoot for me some time,” she said.

Brienne blinked, trying to find any sign of mockery in Ellaria’s handsome dark eyes.

“Jaime!” Ellaria trilled, “Don’t you think Brienne would be the perfect model for one of my shoots?”

Brienne started, turning round to see the most divinely handsome man she had ever seen in her life standing behind her. A chill suddenly swept through the room, but Brienne felt oddly hot as Jaime’s eyes ran over her.

“Nah, she’s wearing too many clothes for one,” he drawled, green eyes glittering in amusement. He smiled at Brienne as though they were both sharing some hilarious joke. He was dressed in a crisp grey suit, fitted perfectly to his frame. Over his shoulder was slung a pink glittery backpack with unicorns prancing all over.

“What are you doing here?” Cersei asked ungraciously, glowering over the rim of her wine glass.

“Myrcella left behind her backpack,” Jaime said.

“Give it to Brienne,” Cersei ordered, turning pointedly away.

“I think I will give it to her myself,” Jaime said. He spun on his heels. “See you later ladies.”

Brienne followed Jaime up the stairs, tray of sandwiches and juice still in hand.

“So,” Jaime said flippantly just as they were out of earshot, “You have met Cersei’s coven of witches.”

Brienne snorted, thinking of the wise women of ancient times who had passed down their knowledge of the earth and herbs and healing, before being prosecuted by the patriarchal church. To call them a coven was an insult to witches. Cersei and her pack were hyenas with extensions and false nails.

“They seem friendly,” Brienne said unconvincingly, just as they reached the playroom. Jaime threw his head back and cackled.

The playroom was a child’s paradise. Every new game’s console was lined against the wall. Collectors’ cuddly toys, an indoor trampoline and swing set, a makeup vanity for Myrcell surrounded with lights. Myrcella and Tommen were playing pirates, using an old cardboard box Brienne had helped them fashion into a pirate ship.

Brienne watched in the doorway of the playroom as the children tackled their father to the ground with squeals of “Daddy! Daddy!”

“Did you bring it? Did you bring it?” Myrcella asked, bouncing on her toes as Tommen hanged like a monkey from Jaime’s neck.

Brienne grinned as Jaime nodded, causing Myrcella to jump up and shriek.

“Let me see, let me see!” she demanded.

“Just give me a moment Pumpkin,” Jaime said hoarsely as Tommen pressed down on his windpipe.

Brienne waited to see what Jaime would produce from the bag, puzzled as to whatever else Myrcella, with her treasure trove of toys, could be asking for.

Jaime produced a crumpled up ball of shirts and shorts with a flourish, eliciting delighted gasps from Myrcella.

“Now, these are not for your mother’s eyes,” Jaime told Myrcella. “I got them from M&S, so if she finds them, she will burn them. “

Brienne laughed. She was the only one. Looking at Jaime and Myrcella's serious faces, Brienne privately vowed to be careful with washing and ironing the contraband clothing.


End file.
